A powerfull sheet of paper
by L'insomnie des etoiles
Summary: Have you ever been scared? Dean asked. Dean angst...Chap 3 is up!
1. Chapter 1

_Title : _A powerfull sheet of paper

_Author: _L'insomnie des étoiles (Grain-de-sable on LiveJournal)

_Beta Reader : _TillyRose. Your're the best ; thanks a lot!

_Disclaimer : _They don't belong to me!

_Characters : _Dean, Sam, John mentioned

_Genre : _Dean angst

_Spoilers : _episode 1.16 Shadow

_Rating : PG 13_

_Summary : _"Have you ever been scared ? " Dean asked his little Brother.

_Author's Note : _English is not my maternal language and I do my best to write correctly. If you see any error they're mine and tell me, they will be corrected.

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"Dean, I'm gonna get some food, you want anything?" Sam asked through the bathroom door.

"French fries, a burger and a big coffee." Dean answered.

Sam nodded and looked through his bag, searching for his wallet. Ten minutes later, he'd given up.

"I'm taking some of your money!"

"What? Do what you want but let me have my shower!" shouted his brother above the noise of the running water. Sam smiled.

The two brothers were taking a break in a little town called Shenendewa.

Taking a break wasn't exactly true: their encounter with the Daeva had been violent. Extremely violent. Sam had gotten deep cuts on his back and on his torso; Dean three gashes on his face and multiple cuts on his stomach. These injuries would take time to heal. Time Sam and Dean didn't have.

They had to get back on the road to hunt until they finally found the demon that had killed their mother. Since Chicago, Sam was more eager than ever to kill the demon. So, when for once Dean had suggested taking a four days break, Sam had protested.

Going through the pockets of his brother's jacket, Sam took a twenty. Suddenly very curious, he peeked quietly into Dean's wallet: credit cards, a few coins, a picture of Dean, John and him...Nothing out of ordinary. Sam sighed softly, feeling slightly guilty. He didn't know why he did that. As he closed the wallet, his eyes caught on a green sheet of paper hidden in the lining. Curious, he unfolded it ... and felt like his heart was going to explode. SATs results from 1997 ; Dean was 18. Sam didn't even know Dean had graduated. He thought his brother had dropped out of high school a year before graduation. At the time, John had asked the elder brother to help him hunt full-time. Between that and school, the choice had been easy for Dean.

Well, Sam thought so. More than anything, Dean loved to hunt. His homework was never important; Sam had never seen him doing it even when they had their finals. He thought his big brother didn't care. Apparently, he was wrong.

For the second time that night, Sam's heart almost stopped. 1440.

His brother had scored 1440. That was better than Sam; that was better than 99 percents of the students. Dean could have gotten a full ride to any college he wanted.

Sam was sitting, slumped on the bed. He didn't raise his head when Dean came out of the bathroom. Looking at his brother, Dean frowned; worried.

"Sam ...?" The younger didn't move. In his hand was... _Ah crap_ thought Dean.

His little brother raised his head. Tears were shining in his eyes. Tears of rage or sadness, Dean couldn't tell. Sam's face was impassive.

"Why?" Sam finally asked.

Dean sighed. He was tired and didn't want to have this conversation. He sat heavily on the bed and looked at his brother right in the eyes.

"Why what?" he retorted. Sam didn't know what to say. Questions were rushing through his head. Soon, they burst out.

"How?" he asked. "How did you continue high school? When did you graduate? Why didn't you go to college? Why did you stay? Does Dad know? Why didn't you tell me? Why?" finished Sam, now furious.

Dean smiled.

"That's a lot of questions kiddo." he said quietly. His calm demeanour annoyed Sam all the more.

"Dean!" he pushed his brother's shoulder with his fist.

"Okay, okay. But first, we gotta eat."

As Sam goes to object, his stomach grumbles loudly.

Half an hour later, the two men were seated at the table in their hotel room with Chinese take-out.

They were both quiet. Sam was watching his brother. Usually, it was Dean who talked and made the conversation. Sam couldn't hold back his impatience; he wanted Dean to talk to him. And at the same time, he was scared. He had the feeling that he wouldn't like what his brother would say. The dinner finished, Sam got up and sat on his bed. Dean stayed at the table, the head down. As Sam was opening his mouth, Dean began to talk.

"The year I turned 16, the hunt became really intense. Monsters were everywhere." Dean raised his head. "You remember the Darkness Dealer that attacked us that day during Christmas break when you were in seventh grade?" Sam nodded.

"And that same night, there was the other malicious spirit that terrified the whole town." Dean remembered.

"You and Dad destroyed it, didn't you?" The older brother made a grunt of confirmation.

"Yeah. What you don't know is that after that, demon attacks became extremely frequent. During the day they would attack buses, schools, shops. At night; cars and houses."

"I had no idea. I noticed that Dad would go out very night but I thought he was doing the usual; beer and pool." Dean shook his head.

"He hunted every night, Sam. Every night and every day for the next year. That's why we stayed so long in Seattle. For almost twelve months, and we don't know why, demons were everywhere. Dad stayed, hoping they were somehow related to the Demon that killed Mom."

"That's why you dropped out of school, isn't it?"

"In March, 1996; Dad got hurt badly. A werewolf; you know how nasty they can be. He broke some ribs, a leg; he had deep scratches on his back, his arms..." Dean trailed off. Sam remembered now; his brother hadn't gone to school for a week to fill in for his father's work.

"After that you didn't go to school anymore."

"I passed the final exams and yes, I stopped." Dean answered. Sam glanced at the SAT results and looked back at Dean.

"But how did you do so…?"

"I did my senior class through a correspondence course. That's how I finished high school."

"How? I mean, we moved all the time..." Sam yawned widely.

Dean, who was still in his chair, got up and stretched carefully. He glanced at his brother. Sam was sitting Indian-style on his bed. Dressed in a t-shirt and jogging pants, he looked a lot like the little boy Dean had taken care of when he was much younger.

"Enough talking for now." he said.

"You haven't finished, Dean." Sam stated seriously.

"We're both tired and you look terrible." Sam frowned but couldn't deny it.

They had taken care of their injuries but were far from being healed. They both had stiches; and it was thanks to their father's medical training that they knew how to sew and repair minor wounds. Despite this, two days after leaving Chicago, their bodies ached. The brothers moved cautiously so as to not reopen the wounds. Sam sighed.

"Tomorrow, I want the rest, okay?" he said, pointing his finger at his older brother.

Stiffly he lay back down on his bed and Dean turned off the light.

**END Chapter 1**


	2. Chapter 2

_Disclaimer : _Obviously, i don't own _Mr Been _

_A/N : _**A big tanks to TillyRose **who did a lot more than beta this fic. You're the best (and the quickest !)

And thanks to people who reviewed and read the first chap ;-)

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Sam was waiting. He was waiting to fall asleep. Dreading the moment; scared of seeing his girlfriend's death as soon as the dreams came. So Sam stayed awake as long as he could.  
On the opposite side of the room his brother would fall asleep after a few minutes of tossing and turning. Dean always slept on his stomach, one hand on the knife beneath his pillow. It was something that had continued since they were kids and Sam liked to hear his brother sleeping. His brother's slow and regular breathing always soothed the young man more than he was willing to admit. Dean's calm sleep helped him relax.

But not tonight. Sam didn't hear his brother lay down on his bed, he didn't hear him twist and turn under the blanket; he didn't hear him fall asleep. And Dean's breathing was far from calm and regular.  
Almost thirty minutes later, Dean was still awake and Sam was beginning to worry. Without waiting any longer, he turned the light on and sat up in his bed. Dressed in black boxers and a t-shirt, Dean was slumped over on the stiff motel bed; bare feet touching the cold floor. His eyes were glazed and held a lost, faraway look. Sam, who was startled and unsettled at the ominous air his brother was portraying, did his best not to jump at the sight. Dean didn't react when Sam, now rather concerned, moved and sat next to him. Time passed, slowly.

"Have you ever been scared?" Dean asked finally, with a quiet voice that resounded in the silence. The first thing Sam thought of was Jessica, burning on the ceiling. He didn't answer; the question was rhetorical. Dean continued with a calm voice.

"I've never been afraid, you know? Never. I'm a good hunter. I made it through situations when other people would have died; I faced and killed monsters that would have scared the bravest men. And all that for more than ten years." Dean's face, completely blank, didn't betray any of his thoughts. Sam was listening, his head slightly turned towards his brother.

"But this one night, when he got home, I was scared." Dean's voice was no more than a whisper. He crossed his hands before him in a nervous, anguished gesture.

"Dean?" Sam whispered. He was petrified, feeling so helpless. Dean was hurting so much. Gently, as if to not startle him, Sam took his brother's hand. Dean seemed to pull out of his stupor slightly. He continued.

---------FLASH-BACK---------

"Sam, turn off the TV," Dean said as he sat at the dinner table, a pen to his hand, his nose to a book and a notebook open before him.

"Don't you have a book to read?" He usually liked to watch _Mr. Bean _but Sam's laughing stopped him from focusing on his homework.

"I've already read all the books." retorted his twelve year-old younger brother angrily. "You can always go work in our room!"

"There isn't a desk in the bedroom, Sam!"

The Winchester family had arrived in Seattle that November. The demonic activity was so intense that John had decided to rent a flat and stay as long as necessary. The only problem was that there were only two rooms to the whole apartment. The brothers shared the bedroom and their father slept in the lounge, so it was hard for them to have time to themselves.  
Despite the close proximity to his brother and father, Sam hadn't needed to fake his joy at the prospect of staying for more than three weeks in one place. He could now make decent friends at school without the fear of loosing them when they left. Dean was also pleased. He wasn't as social as his brother, but - he wouldn't have told this to anyone, especially his family - he could finally revise for his tests without the fear of leaving before he sat them.

"Sam!" Dean barked as the younger boy burst out in a loud bout of laughter. The little guy glared at him.

"Leave me alone; it's not my fault if you're always too late with your studies." At those words, Dean could have strangled his brother. He wasn't late in his revision. It was a test that he had been revising for every day for the past month. Christmas was coming and the teachers were lashing out; tests in class, papers to hand in. Between that, baby-sitting his little brother and helping his father hunt, Dean was overworked. The teenager had had enough. He stood abruptly, turned off the TV - despite the vehement and outraged protests of Sam - went in the room and came back a few minutes later.

"Learn!" he hissed, launching a pile of magazines onto the sofa.

"Wh… What? Porn? That's all you could find?" Sam spat. "You're a real jerk, you know that?" He carelessly tossed the magazines on the floor. As Dean opened his mouth to answer back, he thought better of it. Turning the TV off wasn't his way of starting a fight with his brother. He sat back down at the table as Sam switched on the TV, less loudly this time and he tried to contain his laughter. After the movie, the younger of the two went into the bedroom to read through his homework before falling asleep. As for Dean; he kept working.

By midnight he was exhausted, but felt that he was ready for the test the following day. Clearing up his homework and the magazines, Dean headed off to bed. His father was still out. The teenager figured that the spirit his dad had been hunting since the beginning of the week was harder to destroy than expected. Dean entered the bedroom silently and smiled affectionately at the sight of his brother, sleeping on the bed with a math book on his face. He put the text book away and forced Sam's body under the blankets. His little brother hardly woke up, just enough to realise that it was his brother. Dean turned off the light and fell into bed, the musty pillow cradling his tired head as he drifted off to sleep.

He was awoken by the sound of breaking glass. His first reaction was to turn towards his brother. Sam continued to sleep, oblivious to whatever was going on in the other room. But what was going on? Dean got up; the knife, which had been under every one of his pillows since he was a teenager, sitting comfortably in his fingers. Moonlight caught on the sharp silver blade, dancing shards of light across the walls.

"Dad?" he called, entering the living room.

"Ah shit…" came his father's gruff voice. Dean sighed in relief. He placed the knife on the table and entered the kitchen.

His father was positioned with hands resting heavily on the sink. Standing totally still with his back towards his son, his breathing was shallow. Dean eyed a broken bottle on the floor. John's shoulders shuddered and he turned around, leaning against the bench. He was swaying and his eyes were red.

Dean knew immediately that he had been drinking. This wasn't unusual; it was his father's way to get away from the pain and stress of hunting. There were always going to be battles to fight, always lives at stake. Their job was often a hard one and John, despite his very strong nature needed to relax from time to time. So he went to bars; drank a few beers, talked with people who only had concern for pool or the number of beers they could drink. Dean supposed that the alcohol induced sleep helped to keep his dad's nightmares at bay. The young man understood the need to escape sometimes; he himself loved to play pool to relax, especially with older people who thought they had more experience in the game ... And were quickly proved wrong.

Tonight, it was different and Dean felt it immediately. When his father came home drunk he usually just went to bed and woke up early in the morning, ready to hunt again. But here Dean was worried. His father hadn't called to say the hunt was over and that he would go out. More so, there were traces of a bar fight evident on his face. John's lips were split and bleeding and his left eye was swollen shut. Their father never ever fought in bars; it was the most efficient way to draw attention to themselves, which the Winchesters didn't want or need. It was then that Dean noticed that his father had tried, unsuccessfully, to open another bottle of what seemed to be whisky.  
And it scared him.

"Why you looking at me like that?" John asked. His voice was thick. "Be useful and help me open this young lady, would you?" he said gruffly, the bottle grasped in his blood-stained fist. Dean didn't know how to react.

After an uncertain pause, Dean spoke out hesitantly.

"Dad, you know that this 'young lady' is just gonna give you a major headache in the morning." he said, a forced smile on his lips.

"I said help me open't…" John spoke, a slur evident in his speech. He made to walk towards his son but staggered, starting to fall. In a flash, Dean was at his side, his arms under John's armpits, lowering the older man to the floor. Dean, knowing it was okay to leave his father there for a moment, went to unfold the sofa and came back to his father, squatting down to meet John's bleary gaze.

"Come on, Dad. It's time to sleep." It felt decidedly strange to say that to his father. But he had been looking out for his brother since childhood; and although it was odd to have to do the same thing for his father, he knew it had to be done. John growled, refusing the help from his eldest son. He sat on the floor; leaning against the cupboard, legs sprawled out in front of him. The bottle was still glued to his hand as he pulled his feet around in an attempt to stand up. His effort was wasted and he fell back heavily with a grunt.

"Dad..." Dean grasped his shoulder.

"Back off!" John pushed at his son. Dean didn't listen, determined to end this. He took his father by the arm, tried to make him drop the bottle. John fought back against him, his gestures becoming less controlled, more aggressive. Dean didn't see the bottle come swinging towards his temple; he only felt a shuddering pain rack his skull. And then, he didn't see anything at all.

-------------END FLASH-BACK------------

END Chapter 2  
TBC

_A/N : _That's all for now! Hope you enjoyed this chap!


	3. Chapter 3

_Disclaimer: _cf chap. 1

_Author's note: _

**A very BIG THANKS to TillyRose** who helps me write this fic, corrects my errors with a patience (and so quickly too...), rewrites some of my sentences that are not very english ;-)

**Thanks **also to those who reviewed, and to those who read; I hope this chap won't disappoint you.

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Two men sit in a room at one in the morning. Through cheap curtains, moonlight pierces the room, illuminating the two figures. One of the men is perched tensely on the edge of a bed, his long brown hair concealing tears that refuse to fall. His vision is swimming, and although he is staring at the carpet, his eyes can't make out the tacky print. The other man is pacing the short length of the motel room; every gesture an effort, every move painful. His fists would be clenched if he had the energy.

Why had he told Sam that story? He had sworn to himself to always be silent. Sam already had enough on his plate; he didn't need his brother's ghosts. A burden fell abruptly onto Dean's shoulders. God, he was so tired! It suddenly occurred to him that he had stopped walking. And when had his eyes closed? He could feel himself swaying, he couldn't move anymore; the exhaustion was beating him. He was briefly aware of falling, then strong hands under his armpits, supporting him.

"I've got you, I've got you." Sam's whispered. Dean felt himself be moved up and onto the bed, then Sam's hands gently guiding him backwards to lie down. Dean wanted to protest; he wasn't a child. But the effort just to open his mouth seemed insurmountable. He let Sam shuffle around him on the hard mattress, fixing a pillow under his head. He just wanted to slip into oblivion, to forget all of this. He tried to ease his breathing, to regain the calmness that characterized him. As a blanket was being draped over him, he immediately started to sweat. He needed to feel the cold air on his skin before he choked on the stuffy warmth that suffocated him. He pushed back the blanket in an untidy gesture.

"Too hot…" he whispered, his dry, tired throat struggling to form sound.

"Dean?" Sam said softly. He could understand his brother's fatigue. It was probably more emotional than physical. But if he was feverish...

"I'm not sick, Sam." Dean stated; who knew what Sam was thinking. It made him wonder who the real psychic was.

"You're obviously exhausted and probably coming down with something." his brother retorted gently.

"I'm okay." Dean said quietly.

Sam chose not to harass his brother. Dean was already upset; he didn't want to upset him further and the best way to do that was to avoid mother-henning him. He moved away to sit on the other bed. However, after a slight pause, he found he couldn't stay still and begun pacing the tracks his brother had previously walked. The more he walked, the more clearly he deciphered all the emotions he was feeling.

Firstly, he was mad at his father. He had always disagreed with the man but here; it was too much. He had hit Dean. His father had hit the only person who meant the world to Sam. As he was opening his mouth to express his anger, he snapped it closed. Truth is, he was more sad than angry and Dean didn't need an angry brother. Dean needed the support and the comfort that his little brother was more than willing to give him.

"What's the connection between this and the fact you didn't go to college?" Sam whispered. As soon the words had left his mouth, he knew the answer.

"You wanted to protect me." he whispered, his eyes again full of tears. He stopped his pacing, looked at his brother. Lying still on the bed with red scars that contrasted sharply with his pale face, Dean looked so fragile; so far from the tough image he showed usually...Dean opened his eyes. Not for the first time of his life, Sam marvelled his brother's capacity of recovery. Even if Dean still looked incapable of moving a muscle, his eyes seemed clearer and...calmer?

"Believe me; you didn't force me to do anything." Dean fidgeted a little under his brother's sceptical stare.

"Okay," he admitted, "It probably influenced me a little". Sam glared at him and this time, Dean didn't hold back.

"Truth is; I didn't really know what I wanted to do back then. It seemed so weird; you know, to think that I could get away from all this, the hunt, the desperate people... To forget that Mom was dead and that I could live for myself. I really didn't know how. I had never done that before. I always had to take care of you or Dad or people who needed our help. And Dad, he gave me an excuse to stay." At Sam's inquiring look, he explained.

"I guess I was afraid of what was outside this existence, ya know? The way we live, it just keeps us so isolated from the rest of the world. I… I guess I was just scared of living a normal life. And when Dad hit me..." Dean's voice quivered a little. Just for a second, he closed his eyes.

"When Dad hit me, I became scared of what he might do to you." Dean said softly. "And I said to myself that I couldn't leave you, that I couldn't go to college because Dad could do something... And at the time, the idea wasn't so weird; I mean, you two fought all the time. Maybe Dad didn't need to be drunk to become violent. Especially with you..."

"But when I went to college..."

"Then I realized why I couldn't go..." Dean looked at Sam right in the eyes and this time, Sam was stunned by his brother's strength.

"Sam, I love this life." his brother said, clearly, forcefully. "I love to be able to help people, I love to fight, I love how it makes me feel when I kill those S.O.B's, I love to know that I somehow made someone else's life better, to know that people will remember me as someone who helped them…" Dean spoke with so much conviction that Sam felt something he hadn't for many years: the unlimited, infinite, absolute admiration of a little boy that thinks his big brother can save the world. Except here, Sam didn't think his big brother could save the world; he was quite sure of it. A boyish grin appeared on his lips.

"You're a true hero, you know that?" he said. As expected, a red blush appeared on Dean's cheeks and he turned his head away from Sam, clearly embarrassed. That amused Sam a lot. He sat on Dean's bed and repressed the desire to pull his brother into his arms. He opted instead to grip Dean's shoulder, a gesture of comprehension, a gesture of love. And he felt the slight tremors that agitated his brother's body.

"Dean?" he called softly. His big brother had still the head turned away from him. At the lack of response, he got up silently and laid the blanket over his brother before turning off the light.

His big brother was sleeping; now Sam could go to sleep.

**END Chap 3**

**TBC**

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_A/N:_

Well this is it... I really hope you enjoyed it coz it was really hard to write ;-) If you liked it, tell me; if you didn't, tell me too. Still one more chap, I think. Bye!

L'insomnie des etoiles


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